Cross My Fingers
by Kaeru Shisho
Summary: After the war, Duo meets the pilots at a celebration, hoping to initiate some romance into one of his friendships.


**Cross My Fingers**

Summary: After the war, Duo meets the pilots at a celebration, hoping to initiate some romance into one of his friendships.

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Gundam Wing or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story.

A/N: My deepest thanks go to WaterLily for editing and my best wishes go to Snowdragonct for a Happy Birthday!

**Warnings:** AU, male/male pairings

* * *

My driver squeezed through the bottlenecked intersections, shaking effortlessly through the snarls. After hours of broiling in the bus ride travelling from the battle outpost to the shuttle station, the cool Sanc evening breeze made me giddy. I was grinning.

Freedom was still a wonderful novelty.

Downtown Sanc was completely lit up for the celebrations marking the end of the war. Strings of lights crisscrossed the broad avenues; red globe lanterns dangled from the eaves of buildings. Shop windows glittered with shiny displays and the windows were festooned with the kingdom's colors. Cars, motorbikes, and bicycles clogged the streets. The main boulevards in the heart of the city were closed off and turned into an open-air marketplace to feed the quadrupled population. Folks had flooded the war torn areas to concentrate here where the economy was intact and the government was stable. I had never seen such a crush of people drawn together in peace.

I was stunned by the magnitude of the chaos.

After years of restraint, rationing, and doing without, the populace was plunging into a consuming frenzy. Merchants dumped their stockpiles of merchandise; bagged rice and flour, cheeses, dried meats, fabric and finished clothes, flowers, beer kegs and wine barrels, loaves of bread and rolls, preserved fruit and candy-- a mishmash of food and dry goods spilled across tables or right on the ground.

My mouth watered.

"Can you drop me here?" I asked the driver.

"I'm not at liberty, sir. I am to make sure you are safely delivered to the mansion."

Last time I'd been here, we'd been saving Relena, the Vice Foreign Minister of the Earth Sphere Unified Nation (ESUN), from Mariemaia, who'd been merely a puppet controlled by her grandfather Dekim Barton.

I got out of the limousine at the Sanc Palace, now called the Presidential mansion, checked in my duffle bag, and strolled back to the plaza. I had hours to get cleaned up, readied for presentation to Her Majesty, my personal nickname for Relena, and receive my awards for bravery and conduct leading to saving the Kingdom.

Something had been said about us being heroes.

Kiosks, cart vendors, and bistro tables vied for space on the sidewalks. Music blared from a dozen bars lining the street. In the opposite direction, the street was packed with restaurants, cafes, and shops. Business appeared to be booming even as midnight approached. Gone were the sundown curfews. The place exuded such optimism and possibilities that it was almost inconceivable that we had been at war a week ago.

I'd spent that week on the other side of the continent clearing out "hot spots"—and not the good kind. Venture a hundred miles in any direction from here and one could still promptly stumble into a pocket of insurgency. It was worse out in space; the colonies at the distant La Grange points in particular, and the hundreds of satellites were certainly not free from Oz infestation either.

Four years in the field, I learned one thing: The universe was swarming with OZ.

In spite of this truism, the war had been declared "over" with Oz as the loser. Yay. Within an hour of that announcement, I had been given orders to move out and stomp the enemy that refused to surrender. I had assumed the other Gundam pilots had received similar assignments, except for Quatre.

Quatre had taken off immediately with his Maguanac Corps to supervise the development of X-18999 and promptly re-opened his stomach wound from an earlier injury. Nothing like a stab to the gut to put a guy out of commission for a while.

Quat and I had kept in contact. He had known I was doing field cleanup work, because he'd sent word a couple times from his hospital bed. I know he'd spoken to Trowa, too, because he'd mentioned his name once or twice. Heero, he'd told me, had stayed on in Sanc as part of the government's guard. Quat _knew _to mention Heero, whether I asked after him or not, but I didn't know why.

My job hadn't been done, not by a long shot; dissatisfied Oz rebels were still at large, but there'd come a stipend to make certain I had the funds to travel and I'd been given my new marching orders: make my way to the kingdom's capital and get an award.

I'd called Quatre, who'd been healing "just fine, thank you," and who'd guaranteed over and over that he would be "in attendance". He'd felt certain the other pilots would also be at "the function," as he'd put it.

I had been counting on it.

I'd been dying to see them without the threat of actually dying any second, without a war defining what we could do or think. I'd jumped the first shuttle I could. These had been the guys who I'd come to think of as friends, fellow teenage terrorists, and more.

One of them was the boy of my dreams.

Having taken the bus, rather than a more comfortable taxi, now left me with money to spend. So I did. Exotic smells were everywhere. I sampled exciting new food while shopping for a few gifts. It was my fondest wish that the other pilots would attend the event and we'd have enough private time together that I could give them my little tokens. I wanted them to remember me wherever their fates would send them next.

One in particular.

The glitter of familiar gold and silver shapes drew me to a vendor selling dozens of different crosses. I wore one on a chain around my neck. It had been a gift from Sister Helen and reminded me of a stable time in my life. She and Father Maxwell believed in what the cross symbolized, I believed in them, so indirectly it follows that I believed in what the cross represented.

"Can you write on them?"

"You mean an inscription? Cost you extra. Not much room, what did you have in mind?"

We settled on a price and proper dedications, and I watched as he tooled lines onto the back sides of three matching crosses.

"That looks great."

"It's what I do. Anything else I can get for you today, son?"

"Yeah, I mean, maybe." I pulled out a hunk of scrap metal and a slice of copper tubing. "I need something special in this size."

(o)

Waiting is hard but I managed through to suffer through the pageantry, the receiving lines, and the speeches to get a chance to talk to these friends of mine in private. I cajoled and maneuvered them until we were alone at last, even though our sanctuary was only the men's room with the door jammed shut.

"What is the meaning of this?" Wufei demanded an objective for our meeting.

"You have one minute," Trowa gave me a deadline for it to end, "before the guards break down the door."

"Oh, give him a chance, everyone. I'm sure Duo has a very good reason for bringing us in here. Don't you?" Quatre reinforced the urgency for me to get to the agenda.

Heero just stared at me and clenched his fists. God, he was gorgeous and tense. Incentive enough to get on with it.

"I just wanted you all to know how much our," I searched for a word they'd all accept and came up with, "camaraderie, yes, our teaming up has meant to me. Here—"

I distributed a packet into the hands of Wufei, Trowa, and Quatre.

"Open, open!" I told them as I fended off Heero's glare, threatening to penetrate my thin veneer of neutrality. I really wanted him alone now. "Hold on, 'Ro. Yours is… in my other pocket," I explained, as if I couldn't delve into two pockets at once. I think he knew more than he let on; at least, I hoped I'd read him right in the past as well as I was reading his body language now. He appeared to relax some. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against a stall to wait his turn.

"This is beautiful, Duo. Thank you!" Quatre embraced me into a brief, tight hug then broke away to read the inscription. "It says 'DM+QRW' on the back. How sweet!" Quatre hooked the clasp at the back of his neck and beamed.

Trowa winced. "Um, not 'sweet', thoughtful."

"Yes, very thoughtful gifts," Quat chuckled as he grasped Trowa's cross to read it. "Oh, yours says 'DM+TB'! Here, let me put it on you."

A blind man couldn't have missed how Quat was using this opening to touch Trowa. Sneaky little blond!

Trowa's visible eye enlarged at the other pilot's touch, but he didn't object. He even let Quatre affix his chain. The cross gleamed below his throat as a blush shot past and up his face to his ear tips. I took that as a good sign; Trowa was just as interested in Quat. How cute.

"And I bet Wufei's says 'DB+CW'," Quatre said.

"'CW'? Oh, yeah, 'WC' would sound bad," Trowa agreed. "Not that 'DM+TB' doesn't sound infectious." He sure was being awfully chatty. I wondered if it was attributable to the champagne or the cute blond guy leaning on him?

"A nice remembrance, I agree. Thank you." Wufei added a neat bow and pocketed his gift before Quatre could get his hands on it or him. He even backed away a couple of steps, reinforcing the impression I got that he didn't want the attractive blond siren to touch him. Why, he could put on his own jewelry, right? "In my culture, men don't wear jewelry," he pointed out.

Well, shucks.

"What about Heero?" Quatre asked. He looked at me as if I'd been bludgeoning baby seals with a scythe. "You left him out."

He and I made eye contact. I couldn't tell if he was really concerned on Heero's account because he knew something, or if he was concerned Heero wouldn't be getting a cross like the others and knew something, or he knew something else and was thinking I might chicken out. Then he gave me an evil little smirk and I knew he knew I'd been planning something special for Heero and he'd just wanted to be in on it so he could see what it was—busybody.

"He's hiding something in his other pocket," Wufei said. Big mouth.

"Or so he said," Trowa added. Bigger mouth and I never, ever thought I'd say that about him.

"Um, here." I pressed the tissue-wrapped gift into Heero's hand. "It's, um, from a bit of Wing. Hope it fits." That last part I said so quietly I'm sure he didn't hear me.

He tore off the wrapping paper and then stared at the band, transfixed for a moment before slipping it onto his ring finger. "It fits. This is from Wing?"

"Yeah, I had the cross-maker pound it into a ring."

"Is there an inscription inside?" Quatre asked, urging Heero to look, the bastard. I didn't want Heero to have to read it aloud.

Heero removed it and looked inside the band. "Yes. It's marked much the same as yours."

That wasn't true. I knew it was a white lie to fend off further questioning. What I'd had etched there had a very special meaning I figured even Heero would understand. He could be rather dense, I learned, when it came to romance stuff.

"Oh," Quatre sounded disappointed. "How did you know how big to make it?" he asked me.

"I had the craftsman use this for a guide." I held out the copper ring for Quatre to see and Heero to take. "You can keep it."

Heero took that and fitted it over another finger. "I remember this. I picked it up. Part of a blown-up pipe."

You betcher cute ass it was.

"You saved it?"

I nodded, willing away the blood rising to my face—a losing battle. "Yeah."

"And remembered I'd worn it?"

"You left it behind."

"I was in a rush to get to a mission and lost it."

"I found it."

"And had this made."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Well, now wasn't that the question? I couldn't just tell him how crazy I was about him. Not with an audience. Everybody should leave. Except Heero. Now.

Quatre seem to act on a sixth sense at times, and this was the best of times. "We should go. Duo, thank you for the meaningful keepsakes. We'll see you out in the reception hall. There's dancing."

"I'm going." Wufei kicked the door open.

"Gone," muttered Trowa.

Trowa left so fast I wondered if he wanted to avoid us or if he was just running after Quat for a dance? But I had other things to think about. Now there was just Heero and me and that great big question hanging out there: WHY?

"This is nice," he said.

"The ring or the two of us hanging out together in the men's room?" I asked. I smiled widely when he gave me a "don't joke with me" kind of look.

But the big question wouldn't go away.

"Both."

That was encouragement enough. "I don't want you to forget me!" I blurted out.

"That's not going to happen."

"I don't want you to go away, either." I just had to add that.

"You want me to stay," he looked around, "in the men's room? For how long?" A corner of his mouth curled up—briefly.

Stupid joke but at least he had a sense of humor.

"I don't want you to go away—from me. I want us to stay friends and all." Mostly the "and all" stuff.

I looked up, met, and locked onto his hard stare.

"I've been asked to stay on in Sanc for guard duty."

Hmmm, food for thought. I had been planning on going back to the junkyard business Hilde and I had run off and on during the war. Go or stay—it was in my court.

"You told me you didn't want to kill people anymore."

"I don't," he said.

"If you don't want to do that, you could come and work with me on L2. Lots of scrap from the war to demolish and resell."

"You want us to cohabitate?"

Oh yeah! "We could. Do you?"

He was examining the ring now. "This means something more than just sharing a job and flat together," he surmised. "I wouldn't require this."

This…what? A reminder of the war? A symbol of a romantic relationship with me?

"That's okay. You can keep the ring." If you want it. "Keep'em both."

"It's all I have left of Wing--"

Naturally.

"—and it's from you, so of course I will."

At this point strangers entered the men's room, making intimate conversation impossible. I jumped when I felt his hand on my arm.

"We should go," he said.

Yeah, I knew that, but nothing was settled between us and I really wanted him to know how I felt while I had the chance. I scanned the grand room for ideas; I'd grasp at anything to delay his leaving.

"Would you like to dance?" I asked him.

"With you," he asked, but he just said it like a statement of fact.

"Ah, yeah, but I never learned to ballroom dance."

"Then we'll skip that here."

I thought he seemed unsure of what to do next. I sure was, and then I spotted Quatre in Trowa's arms "dancing". "Hey look! They're just rocking back and forth. I can do that."

He stepped toward me, closing in. I could smell his aftershave. I was awed he knew what that was. I tingled where his hands rested on my hips and waist. In an imitation of Quatre, I raised my arms to encircle Heero's neck and felt strong arms draw me in.

And then I was rocking to the music wrapped up in Heero Yuy. My feet floated over the dance floor as music played by the Palace orchestra soared to a crescendo and dipped and played on and on.

The future was ours.

The music stopped at the close of one piece. Heero's hands left my body and I missed them.

"Here," he said as he slipped the copper ring over my finger, "You can keep this one. I don't need both and this one seems a part of you now."

"Um…you sure?"

"Yes. Don't you remember? I wore that copper ring because when the gas line started leaking, it was the only thing that came between you and death. The lead ones exploded. The copper held."

I had not known that.

"I wore it to remind me of how close I'd come to losing you."

Wow. Then I noticed how close he was again. He was close enough to kiss.

"So, you see, that won't happen now. You should wear it to remember—"

"—How much you cared, ah, still care?"

His faint smile told me I was on the right track.

"What you wrote inside both rings--," he said, since I'd gone mute. He pulled off the copper ring and as he pushed it over my knuckles, he recited, "DMxHYxDMxHY..." as it went around the inside of the ring.

"Um, yeah, about that—" I guessed I'd have to explain what that meant.

"Sounds good to me. All of it."

"Really? You want me, like _that,_ too?"

His eyes gleamed with secret intelligence. "Mission accepted."

And then I felt his lips on mine.

* * *

The End.


End file.
